Winning A Round
by SaraSmile
Summary: Harry finally gets in a few shots and wins a round of wits with Snape, leading to some unexpected results--a smile. Just a funny little bit of fluff. Not slash.One-shot.


Just a quick one-shot I dreamed up. I own nothing, not even Moaning Myrtle. If you feel the need to sue, try someone else. Have a nice day.

****

Winning A Round

That sinking feeling was there again. That feeling I got every time he swept across the classroom toward me. He was sure to make a nasty comment, or deduct points, or just generally hiss in my overall direction. As if it wasn't enough that I was the ruddy Boy Who Lived and had enough on my plate.

That day, however, I just couldn't take it. Call it rage or stress or whatever you wish, but when he approached Hermione's cauldron that day, I knew something was different. And it would never be quite the same again.

We were working on a simple Restorative Draught, at least, simple enough for N.E.W.T level Potions, that is. Everything seemed perfectly in order. Hermione, being the wonderful girlfriend that she is, had basically allowed me to doze throughout the entire brewing, owing to the fact that I hadn't slept properly in about a week. Damn N.E.W.T. revision papers.

But I digress.

Snape, in his typical bat-like manner, glided toward us and stopped. I wondered briefly why he moved so gracefully. Maybe his mum made him take ballet lessons as a kid. That would be enough to turn any wizard into a Death Eater.

He raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, Potter," he asked acidly, "Does Miss Granger cut up your food and brush your teeth as well?"

I gritted my teeth and ignored him. I caught Hermione's eye and she gave me a calming smile.

"It seems to me, Potter," he continued nastily, "That perhaps you could not pass this course without her help."

I glared at him. "Perhaps," I conceded irritably.

The professor seemed surprised at this admission.

"Indeed?" he questioned, the corner of his mouth twitching unpleasantly.

"Sure," I continued, "Hermione helps me review things I don't understand. There's no rule against that, is there, _sir_?" I put sarcastic emphasis on his title.

"No," he spat, sweeping away.

That was the first time I had scored points.

The next time he tried his snarky Potions Master routine, I was prepared.

"Well, well, well, Potter," he said in a velvety tone, "It looks as though Miss Granger is out ill today."

"Yes, she has the flu," I answered loudly.

Snape furrowed his brow as he continued ladling in my potion.

"This is acceptable," he sneered. "You must have cheated off of somebody else today, then, huh ,Potter?"

I raise my own eyebrow at him. Hell, if you can't beat em, join em.

"Absolutely, sir," I gestured around my empty work table, "You can see that I'm in close proximity to several unconfirmed geniuses."

Some of the Slytherins hissed at this remark, which, I confess, gave me great pleasure.

"After all, Professor," I continued sweetly, "How could any student working under your _extreme_ talent not turn out to be quite a competent Potions maker?"

Snape growled low in his throat and walked away in a huff. I stifled a laugh. I was beating Snape at his own game, and I was loving every second of it.

The third encounter, well, the third encounter was something special. That's the day I really knew things were different.

We were brewing, of all things, Polyjuice Potion, and Hermione and I had ours ready to sit before anyone else had even read the instructions and gathered the ingredients. Snape, of course, was immediately suspicious.

"Potter, how is it that one with no real talent in the Potions arena can manage to brew such a complex draught in such a short time?"

"Simple," I countered easily, looking up from my doodling, "I've brewed it before."

He merely raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," I continued, "In my second year. Hermione was the real brains behind the operation, but of course you must have known _that_," I gave a false laugh. "Yeah, we brewed it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom-- have you met Moaning Myrtle? Charming witch, you'd get on with her splendidly, I should set the two of you up-- we brewed it to try and discover the heir of Slytherin. Of course," I chuckled heartily, "Hermione's didn't quite work out properly, but in general the plan went off without a hitch...funny, you didn't even punish us too badly for stealing from your private stores."

I shrugged at his open mouth, propped my feet up on the desk, and went back to my doodling. You could have heard a pin drop in that room. The Slytherins looked appalled, and Hermione seemed to be torn between laughing and crying...I made a mental note to do some groveling later. No reason Snape should affect my love life.

"Potter," Snape said levelly, his mouth twitching, "I'd like to see you after class."

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," I answered, blushing effectively, "But I'm already seeing someone."

At this point, I was almost positive Snape was going to hex me into oblivion. But, technically, I had not said anything inappropriate or disrespectful, and that was exactly how I was getting around the rules.

The Professor, however, merely gave me a piercing stare, his mouth still twitching fervently. "After class, Potter," he replied.

When the last students finally left an hour after that, Hermione throwing sympathetic glances my way, Snape stood and walked over to me.

This time, his twitching mouth gave way to a smile.

And to my great amusement and surprise, he clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"About time you won a round or two, Potter," he said appreciatively, "Only took you seven years to tolerate my sense of humor." And he swept away, pausing at the door to his office.

"By the way, Potter," he smiled, "Give Moaning Myrtle my regards." With that, he shut the door.

I laughed. I guess Snape wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
